Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1913 — CALEB CONOVER, RAILROADER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CALEB CONOVER, RAILROADER

BY ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE

Author of "Syria from the Saddle," "Columbia Stories," Etc. Copyright, 1907, Albert Payson Terhune

CHAPTER VII. An Anonymous Letter. was late that evening when Clive reached his rooms, for a few brief hours of |9sv3kj rest before setting forth on his tour of the State. He was tired out. discouraged, miserable. His much-heralded meeting had been the dreariest sore of fiasco. Scarcely had the opening address begun and the crowded house warmed up to the occasion, when every light in the building had been switched off. inquiry showed that a break had occured in the gas mains which could not be remedied until morning. Candles and lamps were hurriedly sent for. Meantime, through a certain confusion followed the plunging of the place into darkness, the crowd had been on the whole, orderly. In spite of this, the chief of police, with twenty reserves, coming on the scene, had ordered Standish civilly * enough to dismiss the audience. Then the policemen had filed up on the stage, illumining it by their bulls-eye lanterns, and clustered omniously about the speakers.

In response to Clive’s angry protest, the chief had simply reiterated his order, adding that his department was responsible for the city's peace and quiet, and that the crowd showed an inclination to riot. Nor could the Arm of the Law be shaken from this stand. The audience during the colloquy between Standish and the chief had grown impatient, and an occasional catcall or shrill whistle had risen from the darkened auditorium. At each of these sounds the police had gripped their nightsticks and glanced with a fine apprehension at their leader for commands. The upshot of the matter had been the forced dismissal of the spectators. Standish had scouted Ansel’s suggestion that the whole catastrophe was a ruse of Conover’s, until, as he walked down the dark aisle toward the door, he heard a policeman whisper:

“I was waitin’ for the chief to give some of us the tip tp pinch him.” “An’ let him make a noise like a martyr?” grunted a second voice easily recognized as Billy Shevlin’s. "You must think the Boss is as balmy in the belfry as you blue lobsters. He’d ’a’ had Geoghegan broke if he’d —” The rest of the reply had been lost No other disengaged hall could be found in the vicinity; and the meeting from which Clive had expected so much had gone by the board. He walked home in a daze of chagrin. How could he hope to fight a man who employed such weapons; who swayed such power in every city department; who thus early in the campaign showed plainly he would stop at nothing in beating his opponent? Then the young candidate’s teeth clenched tight, and the sullen grit that for so many centuries has carried the bulldog race of yellow-haired, strong jawed Anglo-Saxons to victory against hopeless odds came to his aid. He shook his big shoulders as if tossing off some physical weight, entered his rooms and switched on the electric light.

On his study table lay a special delivery letter, neatly typewritten, as was the single sheet of foolscap it contained. Standish glanced at the bottom of the page. There was no signature. Then he read: “The date for the various county conventions has not been formally’ set It is unofficially given as a week from Saturday. Instead, the caucus will be held in three of the eight counties next Saturday. The Machine’s men know this. The League's don’t. It will be sprung as a surprise, with two days notice instead of the customary seven This will keep many of the League's people from attending. At the Bowden and Jericho caucuses telegrams will be received saying you have withdrawn. “At Matawan and Haldane the regular delegates will be notified to meet at the town halls. While they are waiting outside the locked front doors, the county chairman and his own crowd will step in the back way and hold their caucus and elect their delegates. Floaters will be brought into several counties. In Wills County the chairman will fail to hear the names of your delegates. Have your manager arrange for the Wills men to bolt at the right time. Force the State Committee at once to declare the date for the county conventions. Notify the League's men at Matawan and Haldane of the ’back door’ trick, and have the telegraph operators at Jericho and Bowdon warned not to receive or transmit any fake message of your withdrawal. “On your State tour you will find newspapers closed to your speeches and advertisements, and a number of the halls engaged before you get to town. Arrange for injunctions restraining the papers from barring your

notices, and have someone go ahead of you to secure halls. And arrange for police protection to break up rowdyism at your meetings.” Clive Standish read and re-read this remarkable epistle. That It had come from the Conover camp he could not doubt. He had heard, before Caleb’s hint of the previous afternoon, that there was a certain discontent and vague rumor of treachery, in more than one-of the multifarious branches of the Boss’s business and political interests. For the unexpected strength developed by the Civic League and “the eloquence of, its candidate had shaken divers of the enemy’s less resolute followers, and more than one of these might readily seek to curry favor with the winning side by 'casting just such an anchor to windward In any case, there was the letter. Its author’s identity, for the moment was of no great matter. _ "Anonymous!” mused Standish, ing with the missive with strong taste. “Is It a trick of Conover's or a bit of treachery on the part of the men he trusts? In either case, there’s only one course a winner can take with a thing of this kind. Picking up the letter. he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the fireplace. “Better not say anything about it to Ansel,” he decided as he watched the paper twist open under the heat and break into blaze. “He’d only Call me a visionary crank again. And if It’s a trap, the precautions he’d take would play straight into Conover’s hand.”

Some blocks away, in his Pompton Avenue Mausoleum, the Railroader was giving final orders to the henchmen to whom he had intrusted the details of watching Standish’s forthcoming tour. And some of these same details he had even intrusted to the unenthusiastic Gerald.

CHAPTER VIII. Caleb Works at Long Range. CLIVE Standish opened his upstate tour the following night in the small town of 4228EJ Wayne. It was a farming centre, and the hall was tolerably well, filled with bearded and tanned men who had an outdoor look. Some of them had brought their wives; sallow, dyspeptic, angular creatures with the patient, dull faces of women who live close to nature and are too busy to profit thereby. 1 The audience listened Interestedly as Clive outlined the Boss-ridden condition of the Mountain State, the exorbitant cost of transporting and handling agricultural products, the unjust taxes that fell so heavily on the farmer and the wage-earner, the false system of legislation and the betrayal of the people’s rights by the men they were bamboozled into electing to represent them and protect their interests. He went on to tell how New York and other States had from time to time risen and shaken off a similar yoke of Bossism, and to show how, both materially and in point of selfrespect, the voters of the Mountain State could profit by following such examples. In closing he briefly described the nature, aims and purposes of the Civic League and the practical reforms to which he himself stood pledged. It did Clive’s heart good to see how readily his audience responded in interest to his pleas. He had not spoken ten minutes before he felt he had his house with him. He finished amid a salvo of applause. His hearers flocked about him as he came down from the platform, shaking, his hand, asking him questions, praising his discourse. One big farmer slapped him on the back, crying: “You’re all right, Mr. Standish! If you can carry out all you've promised, I guess Wills County’ll stand by you, solid. But why on earth didn’t you advertise you was comin’ to Wayne to-night? If it hadn’t been for your agent that passed through here yesterday and told some of the boys at the hotel and the postofflce, you wouldn't ’a’ had anyone to hear you. If we’d known what was comin', this hall’d ’a’ been packed.” “But surely you read my advertisements in your local papers!” exclaimed Clive, “I—”

“We sure didn’t read anything of the kind.” retorted a dairyman. “I read everything in the Wayne Clarion, from editorials to soap ads., an’ there hasn’t been a line printed about your meetin’.” “I sent my agent ahead to place paid advertisements with every paper along my route," said the puzzled Standish. “And you say he was in town here yesterday. So he couldn’t have skipped Wayne. I’ll drop in on the editor of the Clarion on my way to the station and ask him why the advertisement was overlooked.” Accordingly, a half-hour later, en route for the midnight train, Standish sought out the Clarion office and demanded an Interview with its editor-in-chief. *‘l -guess that’s me," observed a fat, shirt-sleeved man, who looked from his task of tinkering with a linotype machine's Inner mysteries. "I'm Mr. Gerrett, editor-in-chief, managing editor, city editor, too. My repertorlal staff's out to supper, this being pay day and he being hungry. Were you wanting to subscribe or—? Take a chair, anyhow,” he broke off, sweep'ng a pile of proofs off a three-legged stool. ’’Now, what can I do for you?" “My name is Standish," began Clive, "and I called to find out why—” "Oh!” The staccato monosyllable served as clearing house for all Gerretts genial'ty, for he froze—as much as a stout and perspirng man can -Into editorial super-dignity. Aware that the atmosphere had congealed but without un-

derstanding Clive continued: “My agent called here, did he not? And left an advertisement of—” “Yes,” snapped Garrett, “he did. I was out. He left it with my foreman with the cash for it. I mailed a check for the amount this morning to your League headquarters at Granite." “But why? The advert—” "The ad.’s in my waste-basket. Now, as this is my busy night, maybe you’ll clear out and let"—” "Look here!” said Clive, sternly, and refusing to notice the opened door, ‘‘what does this mean?" ~~~ ~~~~ “It means we don’t want your ads. nor your money.” “Were you too crowded for space and had to leave the advertisement out?” . " “No, we weren’t. We don’t want any dealings with you or the alleged ‘League’ you’re running. That’s all. Ain’t that plain enough?” "No,” answered Clive, tryinglo keep coo1, “I want a reason.” “You’ll keep on wanting, it, then. I’m boss of this office, and —” "The real boss? I doubt it. If you were, what reason would you have for turning away paid advertisements? I may do you an injustice, my friend, but I think you’re acting under orders.” “You’re off!” shouted Gerrett, reddening. “I run this paper as I choose. And I don’t take orders from any man. I—” “Nor passes? Nor freight rebates on paper rolls, and —”

“D’ye mean to insult me?” bellowed Gerrett, wallowing forward, threatening as a fat black thundercloud, “I’ll have you know —” “I don’t think,” replied Clive calmly, and receding not a step, “I don’t think you could be insulted, Mr. Gerrett. You are making rather a pitiful exhibition of yourself. Why not own up to it you are acting under orders of the ‘Machine,’ whose tool you are? The ‘Machine’ which is so afraid of the truth that it takes pains to muzzle the press. The ‘Machine’ that is so well aware of its own rottenness, it dare not let the people whom it is defrauding hear the other side of the case. Why not admit you are bought?” Gerrett was sputtering unintelligible wrath. “Get out of my office!” he roared at last. “Certainly,” assented Standish, “I’ve learned all I wanted to. You serve your masters well. I hope they pay you as adequately.” He turned to the door. Before he reached It a thin youth with inksmears on his fingers swung in. "Hard luck!” exclaimed the newcomer. "That Standish meeting’s raised a lot of Interest downtown. Pity we can’t run anything on ’it! It’d make a dandy first-page spread.” "Shut up!” bellowed Gerrett "You young—” "Don’t scold him,” counselled Standish, walking out. “He dldnt make any break. We’re all three in the secret." (To be Continued.)

“D’ye mean to insult me?